


Lean On Me

by DryDreams



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: A hint of breeding kink as well but we been knew, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff, Jon is just real dumb for the dick, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Tim is a very helpful friend, Trans Jon, a tiny hint of bimboification?, busy little Jon forgot to take his suppressants, friehds with benefits, this fic is a mess guys ngl but it’s cute and hot ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29448633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryDreams/pseuds/DryDreams
Summary: “Tim,” Jon pleads, as Tim climbs onto the bed. “Tim, need you to knot me, please, please.”“Yeah, love, I‘ve pieced that together.”
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 177





	Lean On Me

_Jon - 12:24 am:_ come over please

Tim blinks at his phone, a bit baffled, then looks at the television where he’s been watching only the episodes of Grey’s Anatomy that revolve mostly around Christina. He’s the opposite of busy. 

_Tim - 12:24 am:_ what’s wrong?

 _Jon - 12:25 am:_ need you to come 

_Tim - 12:25 am:_ ??

 _Jon - 12:26 a.m:_ please

It’s the second please that does it. Well, Tim was going to go anyways, because he is a good friend, but a sincere please from Jon spurs him into action. It likely means that he is actually in some form of distress, so Tim gets up off the couch and grabs his coat. 

It’s a short tube ride and a five minute walk to Jon’s house, and Tim spends the whole time worrying. He’d tried asking Jon to elaborate, and tried calling, neither of which were successful. 

The moment he nears Jon’s door he smells it, and he knows. 

The scent of heat is so thick it makes him sweat. It also makes his stomach twist with worry. Jon hates his heats. He takes his suppressors religiously. That he would miss enough to let it get this bad— 

Well. Honestly, with how Jon has been lately, this isn’t too much of a surprise, actually. 

Without even bothering to knock Tim digs the spare key out from its place under the side of the doorframe and lets himself in. Keeping himself from going straight to the bedroom is difficult; the smell of Jon is almost all he can think about and he’s growing hard in his trousers already, feeling almost faint with it. He goes to the cupboard first, though. Fills a glass with water and digs around until he finds an unopened bag of trail mix. 

He takes a deep breath, which does not have the intended calming effect, because he somehow momentarily forgot that the air is the problem. 

Then he heads down the hall to Jon’s bedroom. 

He knocks softly this time as he pushes the door open, and his first breath in almost knocks him on his ass. “Jesus _Christ_ Jon, how did this happen?” He gasps, making his way over to the pile of blankets on the bed that shifts as he speaks. 

There’s a muffled whine and then a hand appears, pushing away a comforter to reveal the sweat soaked, hazy eyed little omega. 

“Tim,” Jon pleads, as Tim puts the glass of water on the bedside table and climbs onto the bed. “Tim, need you to knot me, please, please.”

“Yeah, love, I‘ve pieced that together.” Tim manages to swallow down the moan that threatens to escape him at Jon’s words. He’s never seen Jon quite this gone before. Fucked out of his mind, sure, a few times, but he’s never seen him in _heat._

Thankfully Tim has experience in this area, or he’d probably have mounted Jon five minutes ago and been busy fucking him like a dumb puppy.

When he presses his hand to Jon’s forehead and slides it down to his cheek Jon presses into it insistently, whimpering. He’s like a furnace, and, this cannot be stressed enough, _he smells like the best thing Tim has ever smelled in his life._

Before Tim can manage to do anything else Jon has got a hand fisted in his shirt and is tugging, wriggling his way out of the blankets as he tries to pull Tim closer. Tim drags his eyes away from the newly revealed expanse of scarred skin and the curve of Jon’s chest. 

“Hold on, Jon, hold on. I know for a fact you haven’t consumed any liquids since this started.”

Jon sobs like someone has taken something precious from him when Tim resists his tugging. 

“Jon. Baby. If you drink this whole glass of water I will put my dick in you immediately after, I swear.”

Jon squints at him, so he follows it up with “I’ll even start taking my pants off while you do it.” 

This seems to do the trick, and Jon begrudgingly sits up, the blankets falling off him completely as he crawls over to where the water is. Tim nearly forgets to take his trousers off as he watches, taking in all the little details that he thinks are going to give him some sort of brain damage with how much blood they send in the opposite direction. 

Jon’s thighs are slick down to his goddamn knees, and the small of his back is shiny with sweat. The fingertips on his right hand are wrinkly, and he absentmindedly wipes that hand on a quilt as he reaches for the cup with the other. The hair at the back of his head is a tangled rats nest and his hips twitch even as he sits back, bringing the glass to his lips and proceeding to chug it unreasonably quickly. 

Tim remembers then what he’s supposed to be doing and fumbles at his belt, standing up to shuck his trousers and pants all at once and then pull his shirt over his head. 

Before he can even get fully back onto the bed Jon is pawing at him, one hand at his hip and the other wrapping around his wrist to tug him back, both hot like brands. 

“How long, Jon?” Tim asks as he goes willingly, pushing the blankets around to make a more reasonably sized divot for them. 

“Hm?” Jon hums distractedly as he flops back, hooking his legs around Tim’s hips as Tim settles between them. 

“How long have you been _in heat,_ and not— _fuck,_ be gentle— _told_ anyone, Jon?

Obediently Jon loosens his grip on Tim’s cock but does not slow in guiding it to his entrance. Tim hisses as the head of it slides against Jon’s absolutely sopping cunt, and he fumbles somewhat as he shoves a hand under Jon to lift him into a better position, grabbing a pillow and pushing it underneath his hips.

“Oh. Two days.” Jon says, like he’s commenting on the goddamn weather, and giving him leverage was a mistake because he arches his back and takes Tim halfway with a pleased little grunt. Overwhelmed, Tim can’t help himself, his hips snap and he shoves the rest of the way in, fast enough that it’s almost one smooth synchronized motion, and when he’s fully hilted Jon lets out a breathless contented sound. 

“Two— _ah_ , two _days?_ You fucking—“

“Shut up, Tim, fuck me.” Jon pants, as if that's not what Tim is already goddamn doing, his self control finally slipping as he sets off at a quick, steady pace, letting his instincts take over his body for him so he can attempt to use his brain for other things. 

As gently as he can manage he brushes the hair out of Jon’s face— or rather wipes it off his face, as it’s somewhat glued to his forehead. Jon blinks at him for a moment and gives him a bleary little smile before another thrust knocks his head back, his mouth falling open as he whimpers and cries. 

The relief is palpable, his whole body loose with it as he relishes in finally being properly full. He’s gorgeous— but Tim isn’t too out of his head that he doesn’t still feel the concern tight in his chest, mixing with a bit of guilt. The thought of Jon holed up here for two days, helpless and in pain… well. Tim knows it isn’t his fault that Jon took so long to ask for help— knows he’s lucky Jon asked at all. But he still feels a bit horrid. 

More for his own comfort than anything else he lets himself drop down a bit, covering Jon’s body with his own and pressing his face into Jon’s neck. Jon writhes and digs his nails into Tim’s side, sliding a hand up to the back of his neck where he leaves scratches that will probably scab. The pain is sweet, though, and it throbs through Tim as he breathes in deep, letting Jon’s scent dizzy him. 

Jon is unbelievably hot and slick around him; he always is but it’s different this time, with the pheromones driving Tim near-mad; it feels better than it ever has, feels right and perfect. Tempting fate, Tim presses open mouthed kisses under Jon’s jaw and down his neck, licking over the spot on his shoulder that makes him jerk and whine. 

“Do it, do it,” Jon pants, and it’s hard to say no to the noisy wriggling little thing under his tongue but Tim shakes his head, pressing a parting kiss there and then moving up to Jon’s face, reaching up to hold his chin still. Jon opens his mouth wantingly, breath hot as Tim leans close.

“I’m not— _ah_ , going to mark you, Jon. You’re not mine.” He says firmly, and Jon closes his mouth just to pout. _And Martin would be very cross with me,_ Tim doesn’t say, just kisses Jon’s pouting lips soundly.

They kiss for a long time, until Tim has to pull back because he’s itching to go harder, and Jon feels it too, the moment his mouth is free he’s begging for it, gasping out his words between hitching little breaths.

_“Fuck me, breed me, come on, harder, please, ah, ah, hh—“_

With a growl Tim hooks his hands under Jon’s thighs and pushes them up, pinning his knees almost near his head as Tim bears down, properly pounding him into the mattress now. Jon sobs and thrashes and wraps his arms around Tim’s neck in a death grip, and everything is a hot-slick-breathless blur for a long long moment, and then Tim is coming, his knot swelling as Jon jerks and arches and comes too, squeezing around it in impossibly tight pulses that make Tim whimper himself, gritting his teeth as he resists the urge to sink them into Jon. 

As they catch their breath Jon goes limp, his arms slipping down to lay over Tim’s waist as Tim lets his legs go and melts on top of him, shoving his face into the crook of his neck again.

It’s a long few minutes before either of them speak, Tim brought back to reality by Jon shifting slightly, the movement tugging at where they are joined.

“Feel better?” He mumbles, petting at Jon’s side, the closest thing he could reach. 

“Yes.” Jon responds meekly, and Tim picks up his head to look at him, then. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was the middle of the night and I shouldn’t just ask—“ he begins to say, but Tim rolls his eyes and then his hips, thrusting shallowly and knocking a sharp gasp from Jon, effectively cutting him off.

“The only thing you should be sorry about is _not calling me earlier,_ you idiot. How did this happen? Why on earth did you wait _two days?”_

Jon flushes, avoiding his eyes. “I just got distracted and forgot to get my refill, and then it was too late and I didn’t want… I just wanted to wait it out, I thought I could…”

“Thought you could just push through it? With nothing but your fucking hands? Jesus, Jon, you know some people fucking die from doing that, right?” 

Looking even more embarrassed, Jon squirms, which only serves to send a shock of pleasure through both of them, and Tim dips his head as he moans softly. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon says again, and Tim sighs heavily. 

“Well, I’m here now. We’ll get you a shower when you’re not stuck on my dick okay?”

Another tiny orgasm rolls over Jon and he squeezes his eyes shut, shivering with it. Tim hisses as his cock jerks, Jon’s body milking more out of him. 

“Ah— “ Jon takes a deep breath, and then relaxes. “Yeah. Yes, thank you.”

“Good.” Tim lays back down, gently maneuvering them into a sustainable position. “I’ve got you. Never wait to ask again, okay?”

Jon’s hand curls in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Okay.” 

There’s another long moment of silence before Jon starts squirming again. Tim knows the question is coming but he waits for it anyways, if only for the comedic effect of being right.

“Can we go again in the shower?” Jon finally asks, and Tim huffs out a laugh.

“We can go again as many times as you need. Lucky for you, I’ve got no plans for the weekend.”

When he gets Jon in the shower the omega is already so needy again that Tim has to get him off three times before he can get him to stay still long enough to wash his hair. And while Tim would never complain about eating Jon out while he whines and writhes against the shower wall, the endeavor is a little taxing. 

“Okay, it’s your turn to do all the work,” he says after he wraps Jon in a towel and starts gathering the nastiest of the blankets off the bed to throw into the wash with his clothes. “Ride me while I order takeaway? Can you keep quiet?”

Jon nods, wide eyed and eager. He’s so heat addled (and probably sleep deprived) that he’s acting all sweet and agreeable and stupid. Glimpses of his normal snippy self shine through every so often, usually after he comes, and Tim is starting to look forward to those moments, odd as that is. It’s weird to see him so amenable. Admittedly he is awfully cute like this. Tim wonders if he’ll be extra ornery next week to make up for it. 

_“Use_ the towel to dry yourself _off,_ Jon.” He orders gently before he leaves the room, and Jon blinks at him before his mouth opens in a silent _oh_ as he realizes and obeys. Christ, this must be how Martin feels all the time at work, Tim thinks to himself as he gives Jon a patient smile and heads off to the washer. 

When he returns Jon is back in his slightly-less-dirty nest, sprawled out with three fingers stuffed inside his cunt and two in his mouth. He looks like he’s fallen asleep this way, somehow, and Tim almost believes it until he sits down on the bed and Jon cracks open one eye, taking his hand away from his face. “Did you call already?”

“Not yet. Hungry?” 

“Unfortunately,” Jon grumbles. “Want you inside me again.”

“Uh huh. Gimme a second.”

Tim digs for his phone as Jon sits up and paws at him, pushing him back onto the bed when he finds it. _“Quiet,”_ Tim reminds Jon as he punches in the number for the closest place that delivers, hoping they send some beta who won’t mind the very obvious situation. 

Jon just nods distractedly, already crawling on top of Tim and rubbing against him. 

Tim bites his lip hard as Jon sinks down on him with a light sigh, listening to the phone ring. He watches Jon anxiously as someone picks up with a cheery greeting, but to his relief Jon seems to be trying his best, breath coming in short little puffs as he rolls his hips and bites his lip. 

Not a single incriminating sound escapes Jon as Tim hurriedly places the order, struggling somewhat himself as Jon fucks himself at a more than leisurely pace. When he hangs up he groans with relief, reaching out to pull Jon down to him.

“Good job, Jon, you did so good,” he murmurs as Jon smiles lazily against his mouth and then presses a brief kiss there. 

“How long?” 

“Not long enough that we can get stuck again. I’ll pull out.”

“No!” Jon protests, tensing like he can keep Tim inside him.

Tim pets at his back. “You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry!”

“You just admitted that you were!!”

“Just… just go get it and come back, and keep going.” Jon says decisively and Tim closes his eyes with mock exasperation. 

“Oh so now I have to last until the food gets here, huh?”

“Remember when you let me tie you up and you didn’t come for three hours?”

“Okay, shut it, you. Go back to being incoherent.”

Jon just grins and rolls his hips, sliding his hands up Tim’s arms to wrap around his wrists. He presses a smacking kiss to Tim’s cheekbone. “Make me.” 

“It was supposed to be _your_ turn,” Tim complains exaggeratedly as he arches up and then smoothly flips Jon onto his back, knocking a gorgeous moan from him. Jon doesn’t even bother responding, too busy making noise as Tim gives it to him. He’ll probably fully cry when Tim inevitably slows down and pulls out, but it seems he’s completely forgotten about that for now. 

The food comes blessedly fast, and Jon does cry, just a little, and clings to Tim like a limpet when he returns. He’s gotten nippy all of a sudden, too, covering Tim with suckling little kisses and bites wherever he can reach. Tim pays him back in kind, adding to the growing spread of love bites that are starting to form a very clear circle around the base of Jon’s neck. 

Jon comes all of a sudden, startling Tim a little with his violent shudder. 

“Not so fast,” Tim murmurs into his ear, getting close himself, and slides his hand between them. Jon’s little cock is swollen and slick, and Jon yelps and twists, oversensitive as Tim rolls it between his fingers. “Again for me, please.” 

Jon sobs and pleads, and Tim comes hard, his knot swelling again and when Jon’s next orgasm is forced out of him the pressure has Tim’s vision going white. “Good boy, good job,” he gasps as Jon lets out another weak sob, curling around Tim as best he can. Gently Tim rolls them to the side and hugs Jon to his chest, petting down the length of his back.

“You’re gonna have to settle for my fist after dinner, I’m not gonna be able to go again for a little while.” He says gently. Jon makes a sad little sound. 

“I suppose that will have to do,” he says and Tim laughs. 

“I’ll keep you full, don’t worry.”

“Yuck,” Jon mumbles into Tim’s chest. 

“How dare you. One moment you’re begging me to put pups in you, now I’m yucky?”

“Hush.” Jon grumbles and Tim’s heart thuds, unable to keep from smiling at Jon’s lapse back into typical bitch mode. 

“Also don’t fall asleep, you have to eat,” Tim adds, and Jon groans. 

“You sound like Martin.” He says, and Tim snickers. 

“You wish I was Martin,” he teases, and Jon smacks his arm. 

“What on earth gave you that idea?” He demands, tilting his head to glare. 

“The fact that you’re mad about it means I’m right.” 

Cheeks flushed, Jon sputters. “I can’t believe you would bring this up now when I can’t— when I’m— no, you know what, I can just ignore you, I’m going to ignore you.” He says haughtily, and shoves his face back into Tim’s chest. “Leave me alone,” comes out comically muffled and Tim lets himself laugh, even if the shaking of his body sends near-painful shocks of sharp pleasure through them both. 

“This isn’t over, you know.” He says. Jon pointedly says nothing. 

When they are able to sit up and eat, Jon devours his curry like he’s starving. Tim watches him with mild judgement until Jon catches him and scowls. “I ate yesterday, I’ll have you know.” He says petulantly.

“Uh huh. What did you have?”

“Cheese crackers!” Jon proclaims, like that’s actually an accomplishment. Which, to be fair, it kind of is, in his situation. Tim narrows his eyes and smiles, shaking his head and then saying nothing, going back to his own food as Jon sputters.

After he’s finished Jon begs for another orgasm, which Tim promptly gives him; flipping him on his front and pinning him, fucking him quick and sloppy on three fingers until he comes with a cry. As expected— or rather hoped— he _finally_ falls asleep after this, curling up right where he is. 

Tim has enough time to clean up after dinner, switch over the wash, gather another load of blankets, and take another quick shower. Then, after pausing to watch Jon’s eyelashes move against his cheeks as he breathes softly and evenly, he realizes his eyelids are heavy too. 

Curling around Jon for sleep is something Tim always treasures. Tonight he’s still too-warm, and Tim expects he’ll be awake and rutting against Tim again in far less than a reasonable number of hours, but he’ll take what he can get. It’s going to be a long weekend.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day this fic hit me like a train sorry it’s so scattered hope you liked it ANYWAYS  
> scream at me @archivemedaddy


End file.
